The Painter And The Man Of Means
by Tarma Hartley
Summary: Birthday gift fic for Midnight-hunter. It's New York City in 1886. The Gilded Age is in full swing and, in lower Manhattan, a painter named Jowd makes his living painting portraits of the wealthy. On this day, however, a man of means is going to enter his studio, wishing to commission him to paint a portrait... which will lead to something much more than he expects... CabanOwd
1. The Man Of Means

_**Happy Birthday to my best friend and fellow author, Midnight-hunter! *HUG* Hope you enjoy this little gift fic of mine, dear! :) With her permission, I'm sharing this with you! Enjoy! :)**  
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 _A/N: Inspector Cabanela x Detective Jowd do not belong to me; they belong to CAPCOM. The plot, however, is mine. :)_

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 _It's New York City in 1886. The Gilded Age is in full swing and, in lower Manhattan, a painter named Jowd makes his living painting portraits of the wealthy, the Robber Barons and others of the quality. On this day, however, a man of means is going to enter his studio, wishing to commission him to paint a portrait... which will lead to something much more than he expects..._

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Happy Birthday! Hope you enjoy your fic! :)

I'm firmly stuck in the Victorian Era at the present time-my NaruMitsu American Civil War AU's have taken over my writing life not that I'm complaining, mind you :) -so this is where I decided to set this story of Jowd and Cabanela. Jowd is a painter of portraits in Lower Manhattan and Cabanela is a man of considerable means who goes to him to have his portrait painted. Of course, it turns out to be so much more for them both! :)

Rating will be changed to Mature for sex scene in chapter 3.

 **Thanks** to my readers and all those who have favourited, reviewed, story alerted, favourite author or author alerted me. I appreciate it more than I can say! :)

 **Special thanks** to my beloved husband, DezoPenguin, for all his help, support, advice, nagging when necessary and encouragement! I appreciate it more than I can say! Love you!

Comments are appreciated and constructive criticism is welcomed.

Rated Teen, Romance, CabanOwd [Cabanela x Jowd] 

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 _September 14, 1886  
Jowd's Art Studio  
Lower Manhattan  
New York City  
10 A.M._

I was finishing up a piece for Mrs. Findlay in my studio when I heard the door open, the welcoming bell chiming musically. I looked up, startled, my eyes flickering over to the clock on the mantel above the fireplace. It was 10 A.M. Who could be coming to my studio at this early hour? It was normal for customers to come to my studio in the late morning or the early afternoon but someone coming in this early was definitely unusual.

I put down my paintbrush, grabbed the rag that I had lying on the table specifically for this purpose and wiped my hands quickly, smoothing back my hair as I stood and raced to the receiving room that lay off to the right of the main door.

"Welcome," I said in greeting as the man entered the foyer and my breath caught in my throat when I saw him loping in. That was the best way I could describe the way that he moved: a loping stride albeit with liquid grace. I certainly hadn't seen others move this way before and I must admit that it intrigued me. He was also a very handsome man, which was something else that caught my eye. For some reason I couldn't explain, I was immediately drawn to him, my heart starting to beat faster.

I bit my lip. I'd _never_ had anyone make my heart quicken like this before, and I'd been in business of painting portraits for five years now. I was curious as to what prompted this and it was with some degree of difficulty that I calmed myself enough that I could speak coherently. I had a potentially paying customer and I didn't want to let this opportunity slip by. I hadn't had a commission for awhile and this could be the one who would end the artistic drought I'd been in for the past few months.

"May I help you, Sir?" I asked politely, clasping my hands in front of me over my work smock. My trained artist's eye gave him the once over and I was quite pleased, in both the aesthetic and personal senses, by the man that stood before me. He had short brown hair with a white streak going from temple to temple, a rough, cragged face nonetheless that had a sweet smile upon cupid lips and beautiful chocolate brown eyes that seemed to be depthless pools of shimmering color. He was dressed in a black silk suit with grey cravat, black boots, a red scarf and a black duster overcoat, carrying an elegant ebony walking stick with a gold wolf's head with white kid gloves that looked like they were made of the softest leather.

While I was pleased to have a potentially paying customer, I couldn't help but wonder _why_ he, obviously a gentlemen of considerable means judging by the way he was dressed, had chosen to come to _my_ establishment in lower Manhattan. I knew that there were other more elegant places to have one's portrait done in New York's upper side-I had assumed he had come for a portrait since most who walked through my door did-and I couldn't help but wonder why this gentleman had come here, specifically.

"Yeees," he replied, drawing out the syllables in a mellow baritone which further startled me, "I'm loooking for someone to paint my pooortrait." Whatever else I had been expecting, that lovely, melodic tone had _not_ been one of them.

I also found it curious that he would accentuate his words by drawing them out but, rather than it being an occasion for annoyance, I found myself more intrigued than ever. My heart, which had been beating more quickly than normal, now pounded double time and the sound was so loud in my ears I was surprised that he didn't hear it. I couldn't help the blush that I could feel rising in my cheeks as I tried to imagine where all this rush of emotion was coming from.

"You've come to the right place," I replied quickly, trying to gloss over the fact that I could feel my face getting hot again and I didn't want this distinguished gentleman to think that I was some kind of gap mouthed fool. "Might I ask what kind of portrait you are looking for?" I half turned, spreading out my arm as I indicated the different kinds of portraits I had available that were placed around the room. "I can do aquarelles, oils or watercolors; large or small or anything in between."

He looked around at the paintings in the various different styles I had indicated, going over each with a practiced eye. I couldn't help but stare as I watched him move slowly from end of the room to the other, looking at each piece in turn. There was something... _magical_ about the way he moved so fluidly with that odd walk of his. It was almost as if he were dancing, somehow.

"I like thiiis one," he said at last, pointing with his walking stick to an oil portrait that I had done of a woman some years earlier. "I waaant one in this style."

I brightened; I'd always considered it my best work and I was pleased at the way his face seemed to light up when he looked at me.

"Very well, Sir," I replied, rushing over to the desk and opening a large black leather covered book and opening it to an empty cream page. "What is your name?"

"Cabanela," he replied quickly.

I frowned. "' _Cabanela_ '? No first name?"

He shook his head, smiling. "Just Cabanela."

"All right." I shrugged mentally and wrote down his name. _Cabanela._

"What is your address so I can drop by for the primary sketch?"

He gave me his address in Upper Manhattan and smiled at me; I could feel the oddest sensation race through me when his eyes met mine. They locked and held and I found myself hard pressed to breathe.

"When shall I expect yooou?" he asked, his eyes twinkling, almost as if we'd shared a private joke. I blushed again; I couldn't help it.

 _That's three times in one day_ , I thought to myself, trying hard to control the heat I could feel rising in my cheeks yet again. _What is it about him that makes me feel so..._ odd?

I gave a polite cough and returned to the business at hand. "When can you receive me?"

"Tomooorow afternoon. I have sooome business to take care of first in the morning and, after that, I shall be free."

"Tomorrow afternoon it is." I picked up my quill pen and dipped the nib into the black ink, quickly writing in the date beside his name and address: _Cabanela; Upper West Side, Manhattan. September 26, 1886. Preliminary sketch; oil portrait. 2 P.M._

I heard a soft whisper and looked up, with a start, to see him standing beside me; he was so close that I could feel the faint puffs of his breath on my skin. I had to admit that I was indeed startled to see him so close but, at the same time, I felt something... _else_ that was distinctly odd and that I had never had happen before with any of my previous clients: I _wanted_ him to be there. For someone I'd just met, the feeling was quite unusual, to say the least.

"Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Cabanela?" I asked, hurrying to cover my nervousness at him standing so close to me.

He looked at me in silence for a few moments before he shook his head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Nooo," he said at last, bowing slightly, that enigmatic expression on his face. "I shall expect you tomooorrow afternoon. I shall send my driver to cooome and pick you up."

"Oh, Mr. Cabanela, that's really not neces-"

He held up a hand and I fell silent.

"I insist." He tilted his head slightly to the right.

"Truly, it is _very_ generous of you, Mr. Cabanela, but I-"

"I _insist,_ " he repeated in a tone that brooked no argument. I quickly snapped my mouth shut, cutting off my protest before I it had a chance to escape my lips. He'd insisted; who was I to argue if he wished to have me picked up?

Now that I thought about it, it was certainly more courtesy than many of my previous clients had shown me since most of them treated me little better than hired help. Hate it and resent it though I did, I gritted my teeth and forced myself to smile acquiescing to their selfish needs. I had to admit that I was feeling much better about accepting _this_ particular job for Mr. Cabanela than I had of many others in the past.

He gave me a lopsided grin and I could feel my stomach flip over a couple of times when he did.

"Are we agreeed then? My driver will come and pick you up at 1:30 sharp; please be ready with whateeever you will need to bring alooong with yooou." His eyebrow raised slightly while I stared at him. "He is nooot a man accustomed to waiting and I am a very buuusy man, myself. Please dooo not be tardy."

I swallowed. "I won't. I'll be ready when your man comes to pick me up."

"Excellent!" He sounded pleased.

"May I ask his name so I will know that I am to go with him?"

"Hiiis name is Murdoch... Shannon Murdock. Heee's been in my service for mannny years and is quite a vaaalued employee of mine; heee's also an impatient man and not accustomed to waaaiting so please be ready when he comes for you."

I nodded once again.

"I'll be ready," I repeated. "I shall expect your man tomorrow afternoon at 1:30 P.M."

He smiled again and I felt that familiar fluttering in the pit of my stomach as I watched him glide out of the door, the bell chiming softly as the door closed with a soft clicking sound. Once he had left, I sagged against the table, trying to catch my breath.

I couldn't imagine what on earth had gotten into me and why I was acting like a foolish schoolboy with a silly crush. I didn't know, and was quite puzzled by it, but I wasn't going to worry about it at the moment.

Right now, I had a commission with a fine gentleman who was sending his driver to come and pick me up to take me to his home which was quite considerate of him, to say the least. With all of the materials I needed to lug about on my many trips to and fro from my clients' homes back to my shop during the process, it was nice not to have to rely on the streetcar to get around with all of that cumbersome equipment.

 _He certainly is a kind gentleman..._ A soft smile spread across my face as I made my way back into the room where I did my painting. _And how considerate! Sending me his driver instead of making me fend for myself._

I sat down at the table and picked up my paintbrush again and continued working on the painting I had been when Mr. Cabanela had first arrived. I hummed softly to myself as I worked, the sworls and whirls of paint seeming to glide over the canvas... just like he did as he walked.

I stopped myself a moment and then shrugged and went back to painting, a smile on my face.

Little did I know, as I sat there that night painting, just how much my life was about to change after accepting this commission... and where it would lead me ever after.


	2. The Portrait

_The next day_

 _September 25, 1886_  
 _Upper Manhattan West_  
 _Cabanela residence_  
 _2 P.M._

My mouth dropped open in surprise when Mr. Murdoch pulled the carriage into the drive of Mr. Cabanela's home, the horses trotting briskly. My eyes widened to see the large expanse of trees that lined either side of the cobblestoned driveway as we swept on past and I had to remember to keep a firm hand on my satchel lest it spill out all over the carriage floor.

I was amazed at the beauty that flashed before my eyes but I was in for an even bigger surprise when we approached the main house itself. I was stunned by the sheer size of it as it spread out over the large lawn that seemed to cover an acre or more of the immediate property, with flower beds, fountains here and there gurgling happily with beautiful water music and a maze that led into a beautiful garden complete with a garden path laid out in multicolored stepping stones.

Whoever had designed this had-and I really couldn't help but wonder if it was by someone I knew-the artist's eye. I could definitely appreciate the natural beauty as it went by me.

I enjoyed the trip immensely and was sorry to see it end when we arrived at the carriage house where five servants waited silently for our arrival. Mr. Murdoch pulled the horses to a stop with a soft "whoa there." They danced in place for a moment or two and then stood still, not a muscle moving.

"Mr. Jowd?" The tall thin butler dressed in impeccable black stepped forward, taking the knob on the carriage door and twisting it, pulling it open in one fluid motion and then stepped back as the footman pulled down the steps so I could alight from the carriage.

"Yes?" I was struggling a little with the large satchel I carried with me that held my art supplies until a large man stepped forward, also dressed in impeccable black like the butler and the other three servants that stood there with them, extending his hand. I handed it over to him with a grateful smile and he nodded, the ghost of a smile tugging at the edge of his lips as he turned and walked into the carriage house, his footsteps echoing on the stone floor until he was lost to sight.

"The Master is expecting you in the main house," the butler explained, his brown eyes twinkling, "and he has personally asked me to escort you into the receiving room." He stepped aside as I gingerly lit on the ground from the carriage, smoothing out the wrinkles in my black overcoat resulting from the half hour trip. I had to admit that it was definitely an interesting method of getting around but also a very comfortable one, too.

 _I could get used to this._ I grinned at the thought as I followed the butler, stopping every few feet to gape in amazement at the beautiful rooms that we passed through. The butler noticed and smiled slightly but made no comment as we went through the main house, through the parlor and into what I assumed was the receiving room.

The butler indicated a seat across from a small coffee table laden with refreshments and I sat, my eyes widening at the delicious assortment that lay spread on the table before me on three silver platters along with a silver tea service that lay off to the side and a coffee urn that sparkled in the overhead light.

A young maid stepped forward and curtsied. "Would you care for some coffee or tea, Sir?"

"Coffee, please." I waited while she picked up the coffee urn and poured me a cup into the china coffee cup that she had placed before me. I watched as the dark brew poured from its silver spout and filled the cup to the brim; she smiled and stepped back, offering me one of the silver platters of baked goods that looked tantalizingly good from where I was sitting.

I took two pastries and set one on a plate that was sitting on the table in front of me. I bit into the one I held in my hand, closing my eyes in pleasure as lemon and orange flavors burst out over my tongue in a pleasurable symphony of taste. I couldn't help but moan with the deliciousness of it all; I wasn't sure exactly what kind of pastry it was but, whatever it may have been, there was no denying that it tasted like a little slice of heaven. It was something that I had never tasted before in my life and I couldn't repress the small moan of pleasure I made as I ate it, enjoying every delicious bite.

The maid looked pleased and she nodded with satisfaction when I reached over and cadged two more of those little pastries, putting them on my plate. She inclined her head in a respectful bow that I returned if somewhat awkwardly and took her leave a few moments later, her face wreathed in smiles. I couldn't imagine why she was smiling like that but I reasoned that Mr. Cabanela was a good Master to her and his other servants alike; if there was one thing that I had noticed about Mr. Cabanela's household servants, it was that they were all happy.

 _That stands to reason,_ I thought as I took another bite, chewing happily before I picked up my coffee cup and took a sip of the steaming brew. _He seems like a good Master; how did I feel when he insisted that he send his driver over for me to come pick me up? He didn't have to do that but yet he did. That really tells you all you need to know about him._

This was certainly a new event. Most of the other wealthy patrons I worked for treated their servants abominably and they often wondered out loud to me when I was working on their portraits why they gave their notice. I ached to tell them the reason but I held my tongue; if they couldn't figure out it was the very poor way that they treated them, I wasn't about to tell them.

I killed time waiting for Mr. Cabanela to arrive by looking around the receiving room and I was struck dumb with amazement at what I saw and how beautiful it was: the beautifully soft cream colored walls, lush red carpeting, the oak doors that led into the main part of the house, the beautiful bookshelves that lined one side of the room with the rich leather books that filled them, the circular staircase that led to the upper floor and what I assumed to be either a study or library with its rich cherrywood bannister that snaked its way upward; the black-and-white tiled marble floor; the many beautiful paintings that lined the walls on all four sides, the crystal lamps that stood on two tables at opposite sides of the room... all in all, it was a beautiful and serene place and I couldn't help but wonder who it was that had helped him to put together such an impressive, room. I felt very comfortable here and I was sure that was the intent: to put his guests at ease. What a marvelous way to do it!

I finished my pastry and coffee just as the mahogany grandfather clock chimed two thirty in the far corner of the room. I dusted my hands off and waited for my client's arrival, my hands lying on my thighs. I assumed that Mr. Cabanela was very busy today since I had been waiting here for a half hour already but he had seen fit to have refreshments and coffee or tea ready for me since he had to have known at some point that he would be late.

 _What a fine gentleman,_ I thought with admiration as I looked around the room again, _how thoughtful, courteous and kind he is!_ I couldn't help but smile. _I'm certainly going to enjoy this job! What a wonderful way to start!_

He did arrive a few moments later and I was starteld out of my reverie to see him loping in that peculiar, but _very_ attractive walk of his, through the door and the dazzling smile he bestowed on me was enough to make me blush.

He chuckled. "I'm sooory I'm late," he began, gliding over to where I stood looking after him mutely. "I haaad other business to attend tooo and it toook me longer than I expected to complete." He tilted his head to the right and I could feel my heart start to beat faster as he did so, his brown eyes shining. "I trust that you were well taaaken care of by my staff while you waited for me to complete my busssiness?"

I nodded, swallowing hard a few times since my throat suddenly felt tight "Yes. They were very kind and attentive, thank you."

His eyes flickered over to the small coffee table and back to me again. "I taaake it you enjoyed yooour repast?"

"I did, indeed! The pastries were wonderful and quite delicious." I found myself blushing. "I enjoyed them very much and have never tasted anything like them before."

"My cook is a French pastry chef that has wooorked some of the finest restaurants in the wooorld." He was very pleased at my reaction. "I shall tell him that yooou enjoyed his lemon pastries; he will be very pleased, I'm certain."

I couldn't help it. I blushed pink with pleasure. For some reason, the lilt in his voice seemed much... _softer_ than it had the first time he had come into my abode the day before. I couldn't really account for the change but shrugged it off as being of no consequence; I was here to do a job and I would do so.

The fact that he had come to my place of business instead of the other establishments in Upper Manhattan spoke volumes; I prided myself on being able to turn a very good piece of work and it had made my reputation among the quality.

"At any rate," he continued, tilting his head slightly to the right, "am I right to expect that yooou will want to start wooork as soon as possible?"

I nodded, not being able to speak. For some reason, his closeness was intoxicating and I had to pointedly remind myself to breathe. Again. I was starting to become concerned over the lapses of emotion; I couldn't understand why this was even happening. I'd never had anything like this with any of my other clients before so what was it about Mr. Cabanela that reduced me to an emotional mess?

 _You really need to get a grip, Jowd,_ I told myself sternly as Mr. Cabanela stood there watching me in silence, the corners of his mouth twitching with undisguised amusement, _and the sooner you can do that, the better. This is the best commission you could have ever received and I sure as hell don't want to mess that up!_

After many moments of an uneasy silence, Mr. Cabanela smiled at me and I swore that my insides melted which was an even more surprising reaction than the previous ones had been. I still couldn't figure out what on earth was going on or even why I was feeling like I was but I shrugged and pushed the matter from my mind, concentrating on the job at hand.

I gave my head a shake, throwing off the cobwebs that seemed to be infecting my brain.

"If there is nothing else that you wish to discuss at this time," I said, standing up abruptly and Mr. Cabanela seemed a little taken aback at first but quickly regained his composure, "I would like to get started." I looked around the room. "Is there anywhere that you wish me to work: perhaps a side room, an atrium or another place?"

He thought for a moment and I had to tell my insides very sternly to behave. I wished I knew where all this was coming from... It was becoming a problem and the last thing I wanted was for it to become more of a problem than I could handle which would mean the end of this commission. Come what may, I didn't want that to happen. I was just at a loss as to how I could make that happen since it seemed that my insides turned to mush whenever he was close to me.

"There is a place near the back that wooould be perfect for what you require," he said at last. "It's a small, brightly lit room to the side of the garden. I usually dooon't go in there but it is perfect fooor yooour needs."

I smiled. "Thank you very much, Mr. Cabanela," I replied, following as he turned and began to glide out of the room. "I do appreciate your kindess and consideration."

He smiled, bowing slightly form the waist. "It is my pleasuuure. Now-" here he indicated a door - "if you would fooollow me, I will take you to the room I mentioned." He looked back at me as I followed him into the hallway. "Your gear is already seeet up and we can begin immeeediately, if you wish."

I brightened. "I would! Thank you!"

He didn't say another word the rest of the way and even when we entered the room; he merely walked over to the lounging chair that had been placed specifically there for that purpose, sliding into it with such liquid grace that I couldn't help staring. He merely grinned at me, immediately setting me at ease as I picked up my canvas and charcoal and, my tongue between my teeth, I began to roughly sketch him.

We would have many a day to come for the next six months to be in each others presence and I was to find that I enjoyed his company immensely. He was not only kind and thoughtful but a shrewd businessman who had a droll sense of humor and a down-to-earth view of himself. My admiration for him grew as each day passed and I found myself, more and more, wanting to spend every possible moment he could spare from his business dealings; to my surprise, he didn't seem to mind and made sure that every moment he was not engaged in his day to day affairs he spent in my company.

Little did I know then that this was only the beginning and that my life, and his, would be inextricably linked from that day on.


	3. Unexpected Developments

_March 23, 1887  
Upper Manhattan West  
Cabanela residence  
2 P.M._

I'd been coming here frequently since September and now the final work was getting close to being complete and, I had to admit, I felt that this commission was by far the very best I'd ever done. Mr. Cabanela practically came to an amazingly vibrant life on canvas and I was especially pleased by how well his eyes seemed to glow.

I'd also noticed something else in the intervening time: my feelings for Mr. Cabanela were beginning to reassert themselves and much more forcefully than they had previously. I was doing my level best to try and quash them but they refused to go away quietly; instead, I found them getting stronger as time passed.

Curiously, he seemed to be aware of this but made no comment, at least not any that I was privy to. I also noticed that none of his household staff said anything to me, either, so I was reasonably assured that he hadn't breathed a word on the subject to anyone. I had, though, caught him looking at me every now and again and it was difficult to read the enigmatic expression he wore.

I thought I saw some softness, some little gleam of happiness whenever I approached; I definitely knew that his gliding walk had changed _somehow_ over the course of the past few months although it was difficult to put my finger on exactly what that was but I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that _something_ had definitely changed.

It was interesting, I noted as I watched him recline in his favorite chair in the room that I had begun to call my painting room-Mr. Cabanela had, indeed, chosen it well-that he seemed to be more relaxed than he had been previously, like there was some kind of itchy tension that had been building up that had been released.

Whatever it might have been, he seemed more at ease than he had been previously, lounging in his chair and I couldn't help but smile as I looked at him. He was indeed a very handsome man and my heart began beating faster. I had to make a real effort to quell it and, to my chagrin, I was only partially successful but decided to pay it no mind as I continued to dab and swirl paint on the canvas.

I was so engrossed in my work and the finishing touches on his portrait that I didn't know that Mr. Cabanela had put aside his book and had glided over to where I sat busily working until I became aware of his presence and, startled, I'd jumped a little.

I started trembling and, to my horror, I found that I couldn't stop though I desperately tried to. My hands were shaking quite noticeably, so much so that I couldn't hold my paintbrush and dropped it on the canvas; luckily, the spatters of red paint were contained to an unfinished area and I could paint over it later. My eyes were wide and staring as I felt Mr. Cabanela take the canvas gently from my nerveless hands and setting it on the table beside the chair I was sitting in before turning to me, a very curious expression on his face. It was like he was mulling over something in his mind.

"M-M-Mr. Caban-Cabanel-a," I stuttered, cursing myself inwardly for sounding like a ham handed lackwit that couldn't even get his tongue to work. "W-What...are...are...y-?"

"Hush," was all he said as he lifted his hand, placing a finger on my lips which instantly silenced me and I could only watch with horrified fascination when that same finger slid slowly from my lips, traveled across my jaw and then slid to the back of my head.

"But-" I managed to say against his lips but, with one more whispered command, I fell silent. Time seemed to stand still for me in that moment and I gasped softly when I felt him cup the back of my head with his hand and draw my face over to his, pressing his mouth hard against mine before I could utter a word of protest.

I woofed in surprise but made no effort to move, nor did I resist when his mouth started moving on mine, opening it to his, his tongue pushing past my lips to tangle with my own. My eyelids fluttered shut and I found myself responding, my arms wrapping themselves around his neck, pulling him in closer.

I could feel his lips curve into a smile under mine but I was too far gone to care at the moment, small moans escaping from between our pressed lips. I couldn't believe that I was actually kissing him, something that I had wanted to do for months but never dreamed, or dared, to think would ever happen.

Even though my mind was screaming warnings at me, I ignored its increasingly shrill protests and continued to do what I _really_ wanted to do: kiss Mr. Cabanela.

I could feel his hands slide to my shoulders and he pulled me forward, our mouths still glued together until I stood, pulling me to him and holding me tightly against him. He deepened the kiss, his hands boldly caressing every inch of me that he could and I found myself drowning in a sea of sensation, soft moans pouring from my mouth.

He didn't stop until our breaths ran out and slowly, and reluctantly, parted. My lips stung from his passionate kiss and my mind was whirling as I slowly came down from the euphoric high that his kiss had wrought from me. I was panting for breath, my eyes glazed with lust and surprise while he looked at me with deep affection and, dare I say it, perhaps even... _love_?

The plethora of emotions that flitted across his face in that moment were startling: looks of desire vied equally with longing, his chocolate brown eyes shining. He stretched out his hand and, without hesitation, I took it in my own as we hurried from the room together. My heart pounded in my chest as we raced together down the hall into his bedroom that lay beyond the main hall; he practically slammed the door behind him and locked it quickly, never relinquishing my hand once as he did so.

It was almost as if he didn't want to let me go even for an instant to lock the door, not that I minded; I was as hungry for the feel of his skin against mine as he and I watched with impatience until I heard the audible 'click' of the bolt sliding home in the lock.

He squeezed my hand tenderly as he drew me once more against him, releasing my hand, his hands dug into my hair, his mouth once more possessing mine in a kiss so passionate that it left me breathless. My legs trembled and my knees felt as weak as water as the kiss continued; I felt like I was being devoured but I didn't mind as his hungry mouth demanded more form me and I willingly, and eagerly, gave it to him.

 _Anything_ he wanted, I gave it to him; _anything_ he desired, I was more than willing to give. I wanted this man so badly I ached, had wanted and desired him for months without the slightest hope that my feelings would ever be reciprocated. I'd tried to bury them so deep that they wouldn't see the light of day but, despite my best efforts, they had wormed their way to the surface where they now found free expression, ably encouraged by Mr. Cabanela himself.

Time stood still as we embraced, his hands tenderly cupping my face, once again deepening the kiss that we were sharing. I fell headfirst into the void that opened up before me and let my heart sing as my hands rested on his hips and slowly moved upward until they were on either side of his waist. He was slim but muscular and I couldn't help but wonder what he looked like with his clothing off; if he were anything like I was feeling underneath my questing hands, I would be more than happy to divest him of it.

He seemed to sense what I was thinking and, with a mischievous smile, invited me to go ahead and do what I wished.

"Dooo it," he whispered, his voice hungry and I hastened to obey the unspoken command.

My hands trailed down the front of his crisp white shirt and cravat, my fingers nimbly unfastening the soft silk material; I marveled at its softness as I slowly undid it, wishing to prolong the exquisite torture as long as I could. He was squirming with wonderful decadence and I wanted to see more of it so I deliberately teased him into a near state of begging; the wonderful litany of pleas pouring from his mouth were beautiful to hear and I drank each syllable in as they emerged.

I closed my eyes as I continued my gentle explorations, undoing every button on his vest and shirt before slowly sliding them off of him, delighting in the soft moans I could hear coming from his mouth. I could hear him breathing hard in ragged pants and I increased my ministrations until I had him bared to the waist and then my hungry mouth took over, licking sensitive and overheated flesh which only served to heighten his passion and pleasure as was ably proved by the trembling of his body and the moans that were increasing in volume with each ministration.

In short order, he was lying there on the four poster bed gloriously nude and he was only too happy to help me disrobe. I couldn't help but shiver in pleasure and passion whenever his fingers touched my skin and then, before I fully realized what was happening, he'd grabbed my hand and pulled me down on top of him, his hungry lips setting to work on mine. His tongue poked at my lips, demanding entrance and I was only too happy to oblige; I opened my mouth and it slid in, tangling merrily with my own as he deepened the kiss, his fingers running through my hair.

He gently turned me over, his mouth still glued on mine, until I lay on my back; with a gentle though mischievous grin, he leaned over to grab the cravat and wrapped it around his hand. He proceeded to slowly drag his silken enclosed hand down my chest, over my stomach and down to my erection which he wrapped his fingers around, slowly moving it up and down causing the most exquisite of feelings.

I cried out as he slowly stroked me, my pleasure increasing tenfold with each prolonged stroke. I had the feeling that he was doing this on purpose to drive my pleasure higher and, if this was indeed the case, it was working. In no time at all, I was begging him to take me, pleading with him to end this exquisite torture; the glimmer in his eyes sparked chocolate brown as he obeyed, slowly turning me over onto my stomach. I lay there, trembling with need and on the ragged edge as I heard him fumbling around in the night table drawer for something, heard a click and then realized what it was which made me tremble even more.

 _He is... he's... going... to..._

I could feel the cool bite of the oil as his coated fingers touched me and I groaned when they slowly began to penetrate my bottom. He was gentle, tender even, in his affection and his attentions to me even more so and I was panting hard, muffled mewls of pleasure pouring from my mouth. I turned my head and he immediately swooped down, pressing his mouth hard against mine, kissing me deeply. I felt as though I were falling into a canyon, the pleasure ripping through me was so intense I felt lightheaded from it.

 _Oh, dear God,_ how _I want this!_

Once he was done, his mouth slowly trailed away from mine and I could feel him position himself behind me, feeling him slowly drawing me up until I was kneeling. I was literally shaking with need by this time and he didn't make me wait another moment as I felt him press his oil smeared hardness against the cleft of my bottom and then, with one thrust, rammed himself all the way in.

I gritted my teeth as I cried out in mingled pain and pleasure, feeling his hot breath on my neck, his fingers biting into my skin as he held my hips. I held my breath until he began to move and the pain of his entry was turning into hot, dirty pleasure. He bent over me, pounding into me as hard, and as deeply, as he could.

In the midst of this I could feel the soft touch of silk and was surprised when I discovered my he had somehow tied my wrists together with the cravat but I didn't mind as he hauled me up onto my knees, pulling my bound wrists above my head, biting the back of my neck hard as he did so which brought another round of pleasurable screams from me. I began thrusting my hips back in order to drive him even deeper into me and he readily complied.

His mouth met mine and we kissed as he took me, devouring it with single minded intensity as his lips slid from my mouth, licking beads of sweat as they trickled down my neck onto my shoulders. I was lost in a sea of passion and I was only dimly aware that my wrists were free once more and I was bent over again with Mr. Cabanela so ably riding me.

His breathing was ragged and I could feel his questing hands sliding over my slick flesh as he took me over and over, again and again until I exploded in a thunderous orgasm, crying out over and over until I was hoarse, feeling the spurts of the thick fluid that he poured into me as he, too, came. He kept thrusting in and out all the while, though more gently than he had before and, when we were done, I collapsed onto my stomach, breathing hard with Mr. Cabanela lying on my back.

We lay this way for quite some time until we finally got our breath back and he slowly slid out of me, turning over to lie on the couch and pulling me beside him, cradling me in his arms. We lay in this manner for some time in companionable silence. My mind was racing with the implications over what we had just done. Where would we go from here? Was this a one time fling or would it be the start of something wonderful, as I hoped?

He nuzzled my temple, kissing my sweaty skin tenderly.

"Wooould you like a full time job wooorking for me, Jowd?" he asked, his voice sounding tired but hopeful at the same time.

My eyes widened. _Was he... did he... did he really...?_

"You would like me to... _work_ for you, Mr Cabanela?" I repeated, dumfounded.

He nodded, that dazzling smile that so captivated me spreading over his face, his eyes glimmering.

"Yeees. That's what I am offering yooou." He sounded a bit nervous and I had the sneaking suspicion that he thought I would refuse. And there was something more to his offer of a permanent place with him and I could all but feel the unspoken question: _Will you also be mine?_

The decision rested with me and I took only a moment's hesitation before I answered him, hastening to set him at ease that I wanted _both_ the job he was offering me _and_ him.

"I would be honored, Mr. Cabanela," I replied, my eyes soft as I leaned forward and kissed his lips tenderly.

"Goood." He hugged me again, his fingertips tracing lazy patterns on my sweaty skin. "Yooou're hired." He leaned forward and kissed me, doing a long and proper job of it. "Oh and Jowd?"

"Yes, Mr. Cabanela?"

He winked roguishly at me, his fingertips lazily grazing my skin. "Call me Cabanela."

I laughed as his mouth sought mine once more and we spent the rest of the afternoon, and late in the evening, making love and enjoying our time together when we weren't in the midst of erotic adventures.

And we've been together ever since. It's amazing to me when I think back to that time of how wonderful it was that first day when he stopped in at my studio and the path that we were both to take, together, has made us both the happiest of men.

 **~FIN~**


End file.
